


Drowning in Sorrow

by thelordofstarsanddreams



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOFAS spoilers, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bathtub, Cassian tries to help, Cauldron, Denial of Feelings, Depression, F/M, Fear, Fear of bathing, Flashbacks, Heavy Angst, Hybern, Isolation, Nesta is suffering, PTSD, Post-ACOWAR, Uncontrolled Power, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, acowar spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:28:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelordofstarsanddreams/pseuds/thelordofstarsanddreams
Summary: This wasn't Hybern.Wasn't the cauldron.Over and over she repeated the words.Safe. Safe. Safe.Yet she couldn't get enough air into her Fae lungs. Couldn't stop the way her head span. How panic gripped at her. Clawed at her, like a primal beast, hungry to claim her.Some day's that beast was easy to slay.Today was not one of them.





	Drowning in Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the combination of two prompts I got on tumblr. One of Cassian waiting on Nesta while she's in the tub and the other based on the idea of Nesta losing control of her power. Needless to say I had to make it as angsty as possible. After ACOFAS which I still haven't finished, I am incredibly disappointed in how Nesta has been treated as a character, so I felt the need to jump on the bandwagon and write some prompts for her, and while this involves the Nessian dymanic, it's mostly focused around Nesta. It's the first time I've written something in a long time, so be nice!

It was never easy.

Something so simple for others and yet for Nesta, it was a constant struggle.

The feel of the water as she slid her feet into it, as it lapped at her legs, churned against the sides of the tub, her stomach heaving with it.

It had taken months for her to be able to just sit in a bath again, yet that didn't mean the fear had eased, that the memories were gone.

Every time, she thought of the cauldron. Remembered what it was to be lowered into the blackness. To feel those waters rise, choking her, making her anew.

Even the cold nipping at her bare skin wasn't enough to push Nesta from the edge of the tub where she sat naked, clutching the porcelain edge. The water was starting to cool, the tub edge cutting into her legs, her joints sore from where they had tensed and remained that way.

Each breath was shallow, ragged, limp hair falling over her shoulders, into her damp face. Cold sweat mixed with hot tears.

Nesta wasn't sure when she started crying.

This wasn't Hybern.

Wasn't the cauldron. 

Over and over she repeated the words.

_Safe. Safe. Safe._

Yet she couldn't get enough air into her Fae lungs. Couldn't stop the way her head span. How panic gripped at her. Clawed at her, like a primal beast, hungry to claim her.

Some day's that beast was easy to slay.

Today was not one of them.

\------------------

No matter what he did, Cassian seemed to always find himself waiting on Nesta Archeron.

It had been over the allotted hour that he'd given her to get ready, and when he'd arrived to collect her, Nesta had still been lounging around her slum apartment insisting she merely needed to wash and dress.

This time he had refused to leave.

So he'd perched uncomfortably at the rickety table, wings tucked in tight as he tried to ignore the lingering scent of other males.

Cassian wouldn't fault her for taking what she wanted from men. After all, he was no stranger to a warm bed and an eager female. Yet he couldn't deny what it did to him. The low pit of anger it sent burning in his very core. He had no claim on Nesta. She didn't belong to him. 

Yet it didn't take away from his wanting her.

Dark eyes flickered to a ticking clock hanging on the wall opposite him. 

She was taking her time. Almost 40 minutes she'd been bathing. They were going to be late.

"Nesta, we're on a time limit here," Cassian called, rising to his feet and crossing to the bathroom door, knocking lightly. 

There was a gasp from inside. Almost entirely inaudible. But he was trained. And his senses were almost tuned to her.

Something was wrong.

The very scent of it was suddenly lapping at the air. 

"Nesta?"

Silence. 

"Nesta, answer me or I'm coming in."

Silence again, apart from another small gasp that could almost be taken as a sob. 

Cassian didn't ask a third time.

The latch of the door clicked as it opened. 

Nesta was perched on the edge of the bath, her back to him. He could almost count every notch of her spine. Skin pale, arms too thin, shoulders jutting.

In those first weeks of her being in the Night Court, the Illyrian General couldn't find words enough to describe the beauty of the eldest Archeron sister. The features of her face sculpted, her figure full in all the right places. And while Nesta would always be beautiful, now it made his chest ache to note how sickly she looked. 

It reminded him of Feyre when she'd been taken from the Spring Court. 

"Nesta?"

No response. Not even a flicker of recognition to acknowledge that he was in the room with her. 

Cassian made sure each step echoed on the tile floor, speaking her name again, trying to alert her to his presence as he approached the bath, reaching out to press a hand to her shoulder.

There was nothing for a moment, and then Nesta began to scream. 

\------------------

The woman had sunk into the chambers of blackness in her mind. The tiles of the bathroom faded into nothing. The drip of the tap dissolved into silence until there was nothing but blackness and the sound of her own rapid breathing.

That and the beckoning lull of the cauldron she remembered so well. 

Drowning. She was drowning. 

Then there was a hand on her shoulder and Nesta knew where she was. In Hybern, being dragged to her feet, soaking wet and changed. Made.

She screamed. 

That power within her was boiling. Rising in her throat until it choked her. Crackling at the tips of her fingers. Water boiled around her legs, she lashed out, connecting her elbow with her attackers gut sending them tumbling back. Kicking out and cracking the edge of the bath with her heel before finding herself tumbling onto the floor, landing with a hard crash on the cold tiles. 

It brought her back to reality. 

Nesta gasped, blinking wildly as she stared up at the ceiling. The skin of her legs was burning, her body coated in a sheen of sweat.

"Nesta?"

The male voice was familiar, filled with concern, and as she pushed herself upright, she turned to meet Cassian's gaze, who was leaning against the wall, cradling his gut. 

Apparently she'd found her attacker. 

He'd been waiting. Of course he'd been waiting. She'd forgotten entirely. Too lost in that world of memory and panic. 

Cassian made to approach her, that echo of his scent reaching her before he did, red siphons glowing on his hands as he reached for her.

"Don't touch me."

Her voice was a snarl of warning as she attempted to right herself.

"Let me help-"

_"Get out."_

There was a moment of hesitation, Cassian's reluctance evident, before he turned and left.

\------------------

The memory of Hybern was so fresh it could have taken place hours before.

Even bleeding, his wings in shreds, Cassian would never forget the sight of her as she spilled from the cauldron, night dress clinging to her body, eyes wild like that of a trapped beast. 

Looking at her in that moment, collapsed on the bathroom floor reminded him of that day. 

He hasn't expected the hit and while his leathers took most of the damage the impact of Nesta's elbow in his gut had knocked him back forcefully. The power behind it had filled the room. 

Cassian hadn't fought when she'd told him to leave.

So thin. She was so thin. Supple curves disappearing, her collarbone jutting, her waist gaunt. 

Her couldn't clear the image from his mind.

It was a significant time later when she emerged, wrapped in a robe, her hair pulled back in a messy bun rather than her usual crowning braid. 

"I sent word to Rhys and Feyre that you won't be coming today."

Nesta opened her mouth, no doubt to hit him with some sharp retort. But Cassian cut her off before she could voice the words. 

"I didn't tell them what happened. Just that you can't attend."

The High Fae gave a sharp nod, turning from him to retreat behind a changing screen. 

"Nesta-"

"You can go now, seeing as you aren't playing minder anymore."

"I think-"

The woman appeared from behind the screen, her face that familiar mask of coldness, her eyes dull once more, no longer filled with that wild fire he'd seen earlier.

"I don't care what you think. Get out."

Nesta had moved to the door, snapping it open, staring him dead in the face. Slowly, Cassian rose to his feet, stepping towards her, pausing before he left.

"I still think about Hybern too," His voice was quiet, and for a flash, something crossed Nesta's features before hardening again. "These powers of yours. You're going to need to learn how to control them. Or they'll consume you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Cassian sighed, knowing she was fully aware. He'd felt the power in her hit. Saw the boiling water. The skin on her legs. The crack in the bath. But if she wanted to feign ignorance. So be it. 

"When you decide to do something about it. I'll be here to help."

Silence. 

He stepped through the door. It slammed behind him.

Nesta's only response was the evident scrape of her four locks being latched once more. 

\------------------

The skin on her legs ached. 

It would heal. Quickly as Fae were designed to do, but it still hurt. 

From her spot on the ground, huddled against the front door, she'd gathered her skirts, letting the air at her legs and feet as she drank deeply from the glass of whisky she'd poured for herself. The only movement she'd bothered with before sinking to the floor after kicking Cassian out.

That power still bubbled within her. Growling. Clawing. Like talons scraping at her chest, in her mind. 

Terrifying power.

Earlier had been a mere whisper of what desperately sought to be released.

Destruction. Chaos.

Pure death. 

Nesta poured another glass of the amber liquid, ignoring the shake in her hand as she did so. 

Cassian was right. It would consume her. Kill her. And if she was lucky, it would do so without claiming anyone else around her.

The whisky was gone in one swift movement.

She poured another glass.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! There will be follow up fics/tie ins for other prompts I received, so watch this space, and please kudos and comment to let me know how you found the fic! <3


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